The Identity of an Avatar
by Blue-Haired Goddess
Summary: An introspective SI non-fic about avatars, identities and anime idols.


Title: "The Identity of an Avatar" by the Blue-Haired Goddess  
  
bluehairedgoddess@tenchiclub.com  
  
An introspective SI non-fic about avatars, identities and anime idols.  
  
Subject: misc. 03/23/02. 11:23 PM  
  
DISCLAIMER: Although I am writing this story in part about characters  
  
appearing in PIONEER/AIC's TENCHI series, I do not own any Tenchi  
  
-related characters in *any* of their incarnations. As I've said,   
  
PIONEER/AIC owns them. I own the obsession that keeps me up half   
  
the night, but that's another story. Or maybe it's not....Legal folks, please  
  
do not sue me, I make no money from this.  
  
All of us have our idols. All of us have our favorite anime with which we   
  
pick our favorite or ideal avatars. At least, all of us "true" otaku do. We   
  
like where our anime takes us (to a fantasy world that is ours or   
  
otherwise, but nonetheless away from our realities), and for a lot of us--  
  
the ones that devote the most detailed sites, hundreds of dollars and   
  
thousands of hours to our passion--choosing an avatar is easy. As it is   
  
almost laughable how some characters from fiction are carbon copies of   
  
our real selves. Some would call that stereotyping. And the rest of us--  
  
the stereotypes themselves--may feel otherwise.  
  
I am a Goddess. At least, on the web I am a Goddess. Some may   
  
know my true name. Others may not care. But for this otaku-girl, a name   
  
is everything, and so she has choosen to be a Goddess, and here I am.   
  
And so I was "created". And I am not crazy, I know that I am not   
  
really this Blue-Haired Goddess that I claim to be. But for those few   
  
minutes or hours that I log on, at the computer with my soul online, I feel   
  
that I really am. But I have decieved myself.  
  
I saw my temper, felt my passion, and identified with my favorite   
  
"person". As I said, we all do. She came from a hard life, a colorful   
  
world, possibly a billion miles away. She is tough as nails, loud, brash,   
  
and way too oververt. She is a would-be suductress, if only her subject   
  
weren't so...*indecisive*! She has powder-blue hair (some would consider it   
  
cyan), golden cat-like eyes and packs a *really* mean punch. She is the   
  
20th (and 21st) century's Shrew, as Kate was to Petruchio and good ol'   
  
Shakespere.  
  
She has lived for eons, and will continue to live on in otakus hearts for   
  
years after the video disc or video cassette stops working. New people  
  
of a younger generation will seek out this anime craze whether the craze   
  
is waning or increasing, there will at least be a few. and they will feel the   
  
same, and identify themselves. But I digress.  
  
I thought I knew myself. I thought that I had made an accurate   
  
identification through stereotypes. But this author was wrong. Wrong   
  
about myself, and this--this self-inserted rant--is now my apology to the   
  
world. I am not who I say.  
  
I wonder how many of us (and I am no longer just speaking of otakus)   
  
who have an opportunity to create a name for ourselves misjudge who we   
  
really are. Or who we are seen as. And instead pick names for ourselves   
  
that may very well get us into trouble? Again, I confess: I am no Goddess.  
  
Who am I really? Who is this author who has hardly written anything,   
  
save for a poem, a rant and a lot of unfinished works? I am the worst, the   
  
least favorite and the unbearably, unfortunately annoying bubbly and bouncy   
  
bundle of *unwanted* energy. And it hurts. I am a blonde. And not really.   
  
I know that it is unfair to all of those amazingly intellegent natural blondes   
  
out there who *do* have twice the wit that I do. So let me further correct   
  
myself: I am *the* Blonde. *That* Blonde, which is the only Blonde you   
  
can think of when refering to this anime (Tenchi Muyo). I am the klutsy,   
  
clueless, and compulsive chatterbox that is known as "Mihoshi". And with   
  
such an identity crisis, have I painted myself into a corner? I can go on. I   
  
can go on and on about how in real life this Goddess has tripped over her   
  
own two feet, down the stairs, and managed to burn water in the process.   
  
Always well-intentioned, and always two minutes too late to the punchline   
  
to a joke. A cry-baby and a dependant. And it's funny, because "Mihoshi"  
  
*is* probably very intellegent--in her own way, and on her own time. I read   
  
somewhere, something that is a somewhat tragic, but mostly and accurate   
  
obsurdity that describes the Blonde perfectly. Attention Deficit Disorder.   
  
Yes, I read in a fan site, but secretly knew it to begin with, that Ms.   
  
Kuramitzu possibly has attention deficit disorder. I had known all along,   
  
because I *have* ADD.  
  
It started as just a joke, really. A mostly light-hearted, sarchastic remark   
  
made by a web friend in a chat. I said something silly, and the answer he   
  
gave me was, "Okay, Mihoshi." And though I laughed (or LOL'd) cluelessly,   
  
I secretly screamed because I know it is true, and he shouldn't have known.   
  
Or he shouldn't have believed. I never told him, not then at least, and it felt   
  
just so annoying. Like I said before: it hurt. And no one knows. Those who   
  
know don't understand, or use it as a joke. My identity could never be   
  
anything but myself anyplace outside the net. For on the net, I don't have to   
  
talk. I don't have to answer. I take my time forming words on "paper"and   
  
because no one can here my hyper intonations, how I frequently slip into   
  
valley speak (totally), and ramble on and on, and because I don't constantly   
  
(or not as constantly) ask people to repeat themselves or what does this   
  
mean, or "did it--wasn't it this way?", they'll never know. So on the web I   
  
am a Goddess. But my identity is coming apart. Unraveling like my hair in   
  
it's bun. It's too thick to stay up. The people who I live with, they laugh   
  
alot, mostly at me. And meanwhile I have a choice: To publically admit   
  
who I am not, or to privately try to become what I am not. It may be more  
  
distructive than what I already am. Mihoshi, you're too smart for this.  
  
But all I wanted to do was confess.  
  
And my logical half, my "partner" wants me of the internet now, wants to   
  
relax, I guess. And muttering how I can confuse "Hot Pockets" with "hot   
  
dogs." Oops. I didn't *mean* to. Cinching my hair tighter into its pony tail   
  
and retying my red ribbon, I make sure to save this file before logging off...  
  
____________________________________________________________  
  
____________________________________________________________  
  
Author's Notes: Well, I didn't mean this to turn into a journal entry, it just sort   
  
of happened. For those of you who read all the way though it, I thank you. My   
  
appologies for it not being true fiction. Questions, comments, or flames (though   
  
how can you flame a non-fic fic??!) just send 'em my way, I LOOOVE e-mail!!   
  
Also, if you're looking for someone to be co-author for a fic idea, I am interested.   
  
Tried several times on forums, but no one seems to want to actually write an   
  
*ending* to any of them. No offense to the wonderful people who I have written   
  
with. And special thanks to Addy Oki's site "Mihoshi's Hideaway 5", which is the   
  
one place I've seen describing Mihoshi having ADD. ADD is a real thing, and I   
  
really do have it. It's a pain, mostly because it makes me inherantly weird and I   
  
have no meds, but at least it makes me creative.   
  
^_~ Always,  
  
Blue. 


End file.
